


That Fire Was

by ThrillingDetectiveTales



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Light Praise Kink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-26 16:15:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20933075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThrillingDetectiveTales/pseuds/ThrillingDetectiveTales
Summary: “Oh, of course,” Babe snorted, pausing in his milling to flash a flat look in Bill’s direction. “I ain’t been here even two whole weeks and I’m s’posed to just walk up and say, ‘Hey sarge! You know those god-awful suppressants we all gotta choke down on top of the canteen slop du jour? Turns out they don’t work on me! I know we only just met an’ all but whaddya say to letting me ride your knot ‘til my heat breaks?’”





	That Fire Was

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arwen88](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arwen88/gifts).

> Okay look. I never intended to write A/B/O because it’s not really my thing but **Arwen88** wanted it for her birthday and lo, here we are.
> 
> I have no idea what the world-building is supposed to be beyond that werewolves exist and heats are a thing so let’s all just agree to roll with it, aight?
> 
> Love you, Arwy! Happy belated Birthday!
> 
> Thank you to Muccamukk for making sure this wasn’t hot garbage before I decided to share it with the world. Any remaining errors are mine.
> 
> Title is a bit of a line from an Emily Dickinson poem.

“You know,” Bill said, when Babe finally deigned to yank the door open after five minutes of incessant knocking, “you could've just asked me.”

Babe scoffed and rolled his eyes. The tilled-soil sweetness of a ripening heat rolled out around him in warm, wonderful currents. 

“Like hell I could,” he muttered, stepping back and retreating into the cozy interior of the little room. He left the door open just wide enough for Bill to follow through, which was more of an invitation than Bill had expected. 

He stepped over the jamb and nearly went weak at the knees when he opened his mouth to speak. The wave of scent that had come spilling out just a moment before was nothing in comparison to the thick flood of it saturating the space. It was familiar and decadent, sweet in the earthy way of fresh flowers. Bill, aiming for discretion, cut an open-mouthed grin at the stiff line of Babe’s retreating back and took breath after shallow breath in across his tongue.

“I’m serious,” he insisted, watching as Babe paced the narrow width of the repurposed tool shed once and again. He nudged the door shut behind him and leaned back against it but he didn’t turn the lock yet. Babe had invited him in, sure, but that didn’t mean he wanted Bill to stay.

“Oh, of course,” Babe snorted, pausing in his milling to flash a flat look in Bill’s direction. “I ain’t been here even two whole weeks and I’m s’posed to just walk up and say, ‘Hey sarge! You know those god-awful suppressants we all gotta choke down on top of the canteen slop du jour? Turns out they don’t work on me! I know we only just met an’ all but whaddya say to letting me ride your knot ‘til my heat breaks?’”

He made a little gusting noise like, “Pah!” at the end of it and swatted the air with both hands.

“Probably woulda worked,” Bill shrugged. Babe rolled his eyes and took up pacing once more, crossing his arms over his chest as he shuffled across the floor.

He was in his PT gear despite the slight chill threading through the grey English day, the plain white of his shirt gone thin with sweat at his shoulders and the small of his back. His shorts were too dark to tell for certain at this distance, but Bill would put good money down on their being damp, too. It certainly smelled like they were, even if Babe wasn’t hard enough yet to show much through the snug cotton.

Bill should have guessed that Babe’s heat was simmering to the surface days ago, when his usual warm ginger scent started rounding out into something darker and sweeter. Instead, he had simply assumed that he was smitten and must be imagining the way Babe’s scent pooled like molasses behind his teeth whenever he was near enough to breathe it in. 

Bill _ was _ smitten, of course. There was no denying that after he had nearly flashed fang at Captain Winters barely half an hour ago. The other man was freshly come from checking up on Babe where he had been siloed out here in medical quarantine—unbeknownst to Bill at the time—reeking of Babe and of heat on top of his usual alpha spice. Bill had been halfway to his feet before his rational mind could assert that the captain would eat a bullet before he engaged in any impropriety with a man under his command. He had been spared the grievous misstep of lunging at his C.O.’s throat only by the good grace of Joe Toye’s quick reflexes.

It was easily the second stupidest thing Bill had done in as many days. The more shameful error had been in not recognizing Babe’s heat sooner, leaving him to suffer alone when the reality was that he had Bill at his beck and call in any which way he so desired.

“It don’t gotta be a whole thing,” Bill offered, taking a cautious step into the room. Babe would never hurt him on purpose but wolves in heat were finicky, and Babe’s instincts were all wrapped up in the traditional match-stick South Philly temper, besides. He didn’t look especially happy to see Bill here, but neither had he chased Bill out with a bloody warning nip to the heels for good measure, so Bill decided to risk another step, and then another. “Just a coupla buddies, helping each other out.”

Babe narrowed his eyes and Bill held out both his hands, stopping a few feet from the door.

“Better’n spending the next four days all cooped up in here, anyway, right?” he continued. Babe snorted again.

“Yeah, if I’m lucky.” He shook his head with a wry little smirk and scuffed the ball of his bare foot against the threadbare area rug a couple of times before admitting in a frustrated mutter, “Always goes longer when I do it unpaired.”

Bill raised his eyebrows. “Well, there you go,” he announced. “Me and you, together? We’ll bust through it in two days, tops.” He shrugged and tilted his head, letting his grin sprawl wide and wolfish as he added, “Maybe three if we’re having a good time.”

That startled a real laugh out of Babe—just a little scrap of a sound that he bit back almost as soon as it barked forward, but it was better than the palpable agitation he’d been cloaked in when Bill first arrived. Babe ducked his head and gave it a shallow shake, toeing absently at the carpet.

“Why?”

“What?” Bill blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden question. Babe was watching him from under the stubby fan of his eyelashes, brow gently furrowed and mouth pressed into a flat, grim line.

“You said you would help, and I wanna know why,” Babe said. When Bill just frowned at him for a few long seconds, Babe made a face, brow knitting as he sighed, “It’s a hell of a thing to lend a hand with, sarge, you gotta admit. Can’t blame a guy for being curious, right?”

The real, honest answer to that question was that Babe reminded Bill of home—not just because he and Bill had grown up within spitting distance, for all that they had been totally oblivious to one another until their paths crossed here in the middle of a goddamn war. There was something about him that made Bill want to lie down and show his underbelly, yip and cry like a dumb puppy desperate for affection, made him want to rub all over Babe until their scents were mixed so thoroughly they became something new.

He didn’t share any of this out loud, because Babe could be a little squirrely when it came to talking about emotions, hung up on the places where the strictures of his rigorous spiritual upbringing rubbed wrong against his instincts as a wolf. Instead, Bill shrugged and said, “You got a nice ass.”

It made Babe laugh again, at least, and Bill risked another step forward, heart crawling up to flutter in his throat as he added, “I was, uh, thinking about asking if you would help me out, actually. Next time we got a little leave.”

“Really?” Babe’s eyebrows quirked up toward his hair, and Bill shrugged again.

“Going a rut alone ain’t exactly a picnic, either,” he said, by way of explanation. “Mine usually ain’t too bad, but you said it yourself: it’s better paired.” He flashed Babe a grin, offering pointedly, “Helluva lot more fun, for one thing.”

“You’re impossible,” Babe said, shaking his head and smiling. “You don’t got a lick of shame, do you?”

Bill held out his hands and pressed his grin closed so he didn’t ruin the whole exchange by collapsing into delighted laughter. To ruffle Babe into biting back, however benignly, was rapidly becoming one of his greatest pleasures in life. 

“Lost it in Normandy,” Bill explained. “Figure the Krauts must’ve got it by now.” He considered for a second, tilting his head to one side and then back. “Them or one of the fellas came in behind us. Spoils of war, an’ all.”

“Unlucky bastard, whoever he is,” Babe replied mournfully, dark eyes bright with amusement. “He don’t got nobody there to tell him it ain’t worth the dirt he picked it up out of.”

Bill clapped a hand to his chest and took a staggering step backwards. “Jesus, kid,” he moaned, palm pressed flat against his sternum. “Go right in for the kill, why don’cha?”

“You’re barely a month older’n me.”

“Been here a lot longer, though, and you know what they say.” Babe arched an eyebrow and Bill stared him down, hand still resting over his heart as he soberly intoned, “War ages a man.”

“Fuck you,” Babe snapped without any real heat, mouth quirked on one side. He reached up to scrub at his chin and heaved a sigh that settled heavy in the air. It stirred the current of his scent into a miserable little eddy, that lush earthen spice curdling with the tang of frustration. He shuffled over to sit down at the foot of the mattress, leaning forward so that he had his elbows propped against his knees, and stared absently down at the floor, shaking his head. “I just want it to be over already. I’m lucky they don’t ship my ass home, busted omega that can’t even take a pill right.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” Babe insisted, looking over with his jaw tight, head still hanging despondently down between his shoulders like it was too heavy to lift all the way. Bill ached to take that dour face in his hands and raise it up. He would happily bear the weight, if Babe would let him. 

He curled his hands into fists at his sides to keep from doing anything stupid or unwelcome but couldn’t fight the urge to step in just a little closer as Babe continued, “Ain’t no use for a combat wolf all tied up in hormones for a week outta every month. You know it, I know it, and Winters ain’t sayin’ so but he knows it, too. Everybody does, ‘specially the schmucks up at command.” He shook his head again and then flopped back onto the narrow mattress, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes and grimacing at the ceiling. “Christ, they’re gonna load me onto the next boat out.”

“Alright,” Bill said in his best sergeant’s clip, squaring his shoulders and striding forward until he was almost near enough to nudge Babe’s knee with his own. “That’s enough of that.”

Babe smelled even better up close, so rich and redolent that Bill was dizzy with it. From this angle, with his legs slightly parted and his shorts riding up a little, it was easy to see that he was already wet. His pale thighs were sheened with slick, bright where the light touched it. Bill swallowed around the sudden, sticky column of heat in his throat and croaked, “You ain’t getting shipped nowhere ‘cause me and you are gonna take care of it.”

Babe made a little discontented noise and let his hands fall away from his face so he could push up onto his elbows. “Bill,” he started, frowning, “you don’t gotta - ” 

“I know!” Bill cut him off with a short, sharp wave of his hand.

Babe flinched at the noise, shrinking back against the mattress and clutching nervously at the bedspread. He watched Bill warily from under the betrayed furrow of his brow while Bill spread his hands and took a pointed step back. He certainly wasn’t doing himself or Babe any favors, crowding him like any heat-stupid alpha wolf who might’ve wandered in off the street.

Bill closed his eyes and took a breath through his nose, long and slow and sweet with the cloying nearness of Babe sprawled before him. When he opened them again, he caught Babe’s eye and held it while he said, softer, “I know I don’t gotta. I ain’t asking ‘cause I gotta. I’m asking ‘cause you’ve had my head on a swivel since you tried to walk outta the mess that first night I saw you.”

Babe swallowed and licked his lips. He was flushed from the bridge of his nose all the way down to where his throat disappeared past the crisp white edge of his shirt collar. Bill wanted to taste that berry-pink stain, chase it down Babe’s skin and see how far it went.

Babe worried his lower lip between his teeth and asked quietly, “S’at true?”

Bill stared at him for a long second and then threw his arms out wide and tossed his head back, as though seeking divine guidance from the beams crossing the ceiling overhead. They weren’t particularly forthcoming so he only stared into the dusty shadows for a heartbeat before letting his attention drop back down. When Bill looked over and met his gaze, Babe was studying him with an expression Bill couldn’t quite place, though it made a wave of heat prickle up the back of his neck.

“Of course it’s fucking true!” Bill crossed his arms over his chest and demanded, “Why the hell else would I be in here making a fucking spectacle of myself, huh?”

“I thought maybe, y’know,” Babe said, sitting up and making an unhelpfully vague gesture in the air.

Bill mimicked it, with maybe a little extra flourish, and muttered, “What is this? You working up some new kinda dance move? Combat hand signals? What?”

Babe pressed his mouth into a line and huffed an irritated breath out his nose. “Nevermind, just. You mean it, right? You ain’t just saying you’ll go with me ‘cause you're my sergeant or, I don’t know.” He shrugged, hunching his shoulders up. “‘Cause you feel bad for me or something?”

“What’s there to feel bad about?” Bill asked, gesturing to himself. “You got a bonafide American war hero standing here practically begging to put a little sugar in your bowl, Babe. Most folks’d tell you, that’s sitting real pretty. Especially out here in Fuck-Nowhere, England. Pickin’s are slim in these parts ‘less you got a thing for 4Fs and farmers.”

Babe blinked at him. “I don’t know about a war hero,” he said after a long, silent moment of consideration. “All I see’s some asshole off Seventeenth Street prancing around and running his mouth like he’s God’s gift to the paratroops.”

There was a sly tilt at the edges of his mouth and a warm spark in his gaze that sent hope fizzing through Bill’s chest like freshly-uncorked champagne.

“I don’t prance for just anyone,” he said, voice low, and Babe grinned, wide and lazy.

“Lucky me.” He had his weight leaned back on his hands, which were posted up a little behind him. His auburn hair had gone even darker at his temples as his temperature peaked, and Bill could just see the rosy shadows of his nipples through the soft white of his shirt.

“It ain’t everyday a fella gets treated to his own private, one-man USO,” Bill agreed, and was rewarded with a soft snort. He reached up to loosen his tie and wiped his palms absently over his thighs. He could feel the familiar pull of want in his gut, coiling into a coal-fired knot behind his navel. If Babe wanted him to leave he needed to know, and quick, or it might become something of a problem. 

“Look, Babe,” he sighed, scratching at an eyebrow, “if you don’t want me here, I’ll make tracks, alright? I ain’t interested if you ain’t. But if you are.” He shrugged. “I got a pack of rubbers in my pocket—good ones, made for wolves. Bought ‘em special from the pharmacy, none of the horseshit standard-issue supply depot’s doling out. I figure, if you’re up for it, we could make pretty good use of ‘em.”

Babe stared at him, dark eyes wide and brows quirked just below his hairline. There was a funny, weightless feeling in Bill’s stomach while he waited for Babe’s response, the same kind of ecstatic free-fall terror that started to stew when the light went green over the drop zone.

“If that’s the best line you got,” Babe said slowly, “it’s a goddamn miracle you ever see any action.” He rolled his eyes and mimicked with a huff, “‘I got a pack a’ rubbers in my pocket.’ Christ, I’ll bet the _ nuns _ could do better’n that, if you asked ‘em.”

Bill licked at his dry lips and loosened his tie a little further in the futile hope that it might settle the thready hum of his pulse in his throat. “That ain’t a no, Babe,” he observed. Babe considered this.

“Nah,” he agreed quietly, a few long seconds later. “I guess it ain’t.”

Bill swallowed and took a careful, stalking step forward. “Ain’t a yes, either,” he continued, putting his head to one side.

“I dunno,” Babe breathed, voice catching in his throat when Bill was close enough that their knees touched. He let his legs fall open even wider and dropped back onto his elbows again with a casual grace that made something dark and warm spill down through Bill’s ribs. “Kinda sounded like one to me.”

“You want me to stick around you’re gonna have to do me one better than that.” Bill trailed the pads of his fingers over the warm, bare skin of Babe’s thigh, marveling at the way Babe shivered, mouth dropping open just enough to show a quick flash of teeth as he sucked in a breath. “Winters’ll have my wings, he gets word we did this on ‘kinda.’”

“Fuck,” Babe said. Bill shook his head.

“You’re moving the wrong direction there, Heffron.” He traced his way down to Babe’s knee, grinning at the gooseflesh that erupted in his wake, the tremor fluttering under Babe’s skin.

“Fuck,” Babe repeated. He moved in a flash, hooking his foot around Bill’s calf and tugging him forward so that he stumbled and nearly fell face-first on top of Babe in a dizzy heap. He caught himself on the mattress with a hand on either side of Babe’s head, staring down into the blown-black depths of his hooded eyes. 

“Alright, yes, fine,” Babe sighed. His face was even redder now and Bill could feel the heat of his breath where he was hovering over top of him. “Stay, Jesus. Is that good enough or you need me to sign something? Hell, I’ll take out an ad in the newspaper, if - ”

“That’ll work,” Bill interrupted, and kissed him.

It was chaste for a second, soft and exploratory, but then Babe opened his mouth just so and Bill risked a swipe of his tongue and they both melted into it without hesitation. Babe made a little choked sound in the back of his throat when Bill licked past his teeth that ricocheted straight down to Bill’s dick in a sparking flare of white heat. He moaned and Babe took that as some kind of invitation, reaching up to fist his hands in the sturdy cotton of Bill’s blouse and tightening his knees where Bill was standing between his spread legs. 

He pulled back just far enough to sigh, “Fuck, you’re good at that,” in a hot gust against Bill’s chin. Bill grinned.

“Kid, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

He dove back in, biting at Babe’s lip and greedily coaxing every high, needy sound he could swallow out from the heat of Babe’s mouth. He stayed close the next time he needed a breath, unwilling to forfeit the heady nearness for something so banal as his own continued survival. He scraped his teeth along the hinge of Babe’s jaw, sucked a dark red bruise into the tender divot just underneath his ear, and was rewarded when Babe clutched at his shoulders and whined his name.

“Alright,” Bill soothed, reaching back to run a hand down Babe’s thigh and hitch his leg a little higher. “You’re alright, I gotcha.”

Babe let out a shaky breath and rocked his hips up. They were at an angle that didn’t provide much friction but he shuddered at the contact anyway. 

“Go on, sweetheart, scoot up,” Bill urged, standing up just enough to get his hands under Babe’s thighs and shove him a careful few inches up the bed. 

Babe scrambled back, gaze hooded and pupils blown wide, face so ruddy that it clashed with the russet hair hanging in sweaty hanks over his forehead.

“Attaboy,” Bill said.

Babe whimpered at the praise, head falling back and eyes fluttering closed as he collapsed onto the two flat pillows piled haphazardly against the headboard. He was clutching at the bed linens again and his PT shorts had been reduced to a sodden scrap of navy fabric straining over his erection, a pale stripe of his stomach bared where his shirt had rucked up in all the shifting around. Bill climbed up onto the mattress, planting a knee on either side of Babe’s legs, and slid his hand up under the hem of Babe’s shirt.

“Christ, look at you,” he sighed, and Babe’s abdomen quivered under his palm. He stroked his thumb across the fine trail of hair leading down from Babe’s belly button and savored the rush of scent that burst between them. He could smell himself thick on the air now, too—a sharper, crisper bite than the burnt sugar mellow of Babe’s heat. The contrast of the two together made Bill’s mouth water.

He dipped his thumb just past the waistband of Babe’s shorts and asked, “You gonna let me fuck you?”

“If you don’t,” Babe panted, lifting his head just high enough to glare dazedly at Bill, “I might kill you.”

Bill laughed, the boisterous cackle that made half the platoon roll their eyes whenever they heard it, and fished a small cardboard packet out of his trouser pocket. He dropped it onto the mattress and plucked at the hem of Babe’s shirt.

“How about you get this off for me, huh?”

Babe grumbled under his breath but dutifully started yanking his shirt up while Bill went to work on his own buttons. By the time he had shrugged both his blouse and undershirt onto the floor, Babe was back up on his elbows, watching Bill over the bared expanse of his chest. It turned out that pretty pink flush spilled nearly all the way to his navel, and Bill was overcome with the need to get his mouth on it. 

He curled one hand over Babe’s hip and ducked his head to nose along Babe’s sternum, press a wet kiss to the warm, thin skin over his heart. Babe gasped his name and Bill hummed into milky dip of his collarbone, set his teeth against the little protruding knob at the end of it and then laved the sting with the flat of his tongue while Babe grasped at his neatly shorn locks.

“Fuck, Bill,” he moaned. “You said you were gonna fuck me.” He tugged absently at Bill’s hair, too short to provide a very solid hold, and licked his lips, beestung and lush. “Please, I want you to fuck me.”

“Well,” Bill murmured against his skin, squeezing his hip hard enough that Babe’s breath hitched in the back of his throat, “since you asked so nice.”

He sat up and shuffled back down toward Babe’s knees, hooking Babe’s PT shorts as he went and dragging them with him, careful not to catch any tender parts. Babe’s cock was hard and red, arcing up toward his belly, and he was so slick between his legs that Bill could hear it when he moved.

“Fuck,” Bill breathed, the curse scraping out over his teeth while his gut churned like a pot on the boil, all heat and fizz. He curled his palm over Babe’s sticky thigh, digging his thumb into the crease where Babe’s leg met his hip and watching in awe as he shivered. “Ain’t even gonna have to work you none, I’ll bet.”

“Please,” Babe sighed again and bit his lip, hips flexing as he pushed up into the pinpoint pressure.

Bill swallowed, throat dry, and nodded, stroking down Babe’s leg to drop a reassuring squeeze just above his knee. He unclasped his belt buckle and shuffled to the end of the mattress to kick his trousers onto the floor, swearing under his breath when they tangled around his ankles and refused to go any further. A quick glance confirmed that he’d been rendered so heat-stupid by the flood of scent filling the air and the way Babe looked flexing and moaning underneath him that he had completely forgotten to take his boots off.

He yanked his pants halfway back up and unknotted the mud-darkened laces of his jump boots with an urgency that threatened to snap the cording, toeing them off and leaving them piled unceremoniously underneath his crumpled trousers and discarded socks. He spared a moment to be grateful that he hadn’t bothered with underwear, considering the intent of his visit.

Babe whined Bill’s name from the headboard and Bill turned and said, “I’m comin’ sweetheart, just hang on, alright?”

He curled a hand over Babe’s ankle and then knee-walked up to settle between his legs, nudging them open a little wider and scooping the cardboard condom packet up as he went. _ Romulus, _ the packaging asserted in cheerful dark blue letters, and under that, a little smaller, _ Rut reinforced! _ Bill snorted and flipped the front flap open, tugging one of the rubbers free and divesting it of its narrow cardboard band.

He had a tube of lubricant in one of his trouser pockets, but Babe was soaked with enough slick already that he didn’t bother reaching back to dig around for it. He hooked his free hand under Babe’s knee and guided his leg up, dropping an absent kiss to it as he murmured, “There we go, that’s perfect.”

Babe made a soft, wanton noise at the praise and Bill grinned, biting his lip and shaking his head in reverential disbelief when he glanced down to see Babe spread out before him.

“You’re so wet.” He pressed two fingers against Babe’s slick pink hole. They sunk in up to the first knuckle with little resistance and Babe rocked down into the intrusion, forcing them further still.

“Fuck, Bill,” he groaned, voice high and thready as he nudged his knee against Bill’s hip. “Get in me already, wouldja?”

“Yeah,” Bill agreed hazily. “Yeah, fuck, alright.” He withdrew his fingers and pumped his dick with Babe’s slick a couple of times before rolling the rubber on. He was already a little swollen at the base, bruise-tender where his knot threatened to pop. He gripped the spot just this side of too hard, hissing as he guided himself toward Babe’s entrance. “Here we go. Stay still for me.” He placed one hand palm-down low on the plane of Babe’s belly, savoring the way it flexed and rose as he held his breath. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that.”

There was a spare second of resistance and then Bill was sinking into the hot, wet clutch of Babe’s body. He rocked forward in slow, short increments that pulled a groan out from behind his sternum, the raw-edged sound blistering with the heat of his satisfaction.

“Fuck, you feel good,” Bill sighed. “I knew you would, y’know? Minute you turned around and mouthed off to me, I had you pegged.”

“All due respect?” Babe gasped, getting a leg around Bill’s back and arching wantonly into the sway of his hips. “Shut the hell up and fuck me, sarge.”

Bill huffed a laugh and braced both hands against the mattress, not far from where Babe’s own were fisted white-knuckle tight in the quilt. He leaned forward for a better angle, hovering over Babe and grinning, “Shoulda guessed you’d be just as big a bastard in bed as you are everywhere.”

“Ain’t gotta flatter me,” Babe replied, and cut Bill a teasing smirk. “Already said I’d go with you.”

“If you’re still up for a conversation, I ain’t doing this right,” Bill observed, and set about proving it.

He rocked into Babe for another couple of slow strokes, searching out the best angle. When Babe clenched around him and gasped a broken moan toward the ceiling, Bill grabbed his hips to keep him in place and started rutting in force.

It wasn’t the first time Bill had ever had heat sex, but riding the slick give of Babe’s body was more intense than he remembered. Every sound Babe made hooked behind Bill’s sternum and pulled the knot of heat in his gut even tighter, and every point where they touched tingled like a livewire. Bill’s head was spinning, pleasure rushing along with his pulse in a tide of white fire.

Babe was a vision, laid out underneath him with his legs wrapped around Bill’s waist, heels digging into Bill’s back hard enough that he wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises there when they finally surfaced from Babe’s heat in a day or two. Bill shifted in a little closer and thrust even harder.

Babe cried out and reached a hand up over his head, the sweaty heel of his palm skidding against the headboard as he braced himself. He was babbling a stream of nonsense—off-color entreaties and Bill’s name and choked pleas for more—that sung like a symphony through the haze in Bill’s head.

“Fuck,” he gasped, “ain’t gonna - last long.”

Babe was too lost in his pleasure to respond, flushed red to his navel and keening with every smacking slide of Bill’s hips. He was leaking all over his belly, and the bed, and when Bill pushed into him and ground his hips in a slow, tight circle Babe came with a shout, in thick white ropes that striped his skin all the way up to his chest.

“Jesus Christ, Babe,” Bill panted. He rocked out and back in, knot just swollen enough to catch on Babe’s rim. “Oh, fuck, I’m right there.” He rocked again, out and in, a rougher drag this time that had Babe moaning weakly as he shuddered through the aftershocks of his orgasm. “I wanna tie you. Let me tie you, sweetheart, please. It’ll be good, I swear. So good, fuck.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent argument he could have made and they probably ought to have had this discussion before they jumped into bed together, but Babe agreed even so, nodding dopily and gasping, “Yeah. Yeah, do it, come on.”

The air was thick with the reek of sex and spend and heat and it only took a thrust or two after Babe’s breathless acquiescence before Bill was spilling inside him, as deep as he could get, the starbright pressure around his dick tightening as his knot swelled to size. His arms were shaking when he finished. Bill only managed to hold himself up long enough to swear before he was collapsing carefully down on top of Babe. 

They would be tied together for awhile yet, until Babe’s heat ramped back up again, but Babe didn’t seem to mind beyond whining a little as Bill shifted. He groped clumsily until he got one hand around the back of Bill’s head and Bill sighed and turned his face into Babe’s throat, dropping a lazy kiss to his sweat-soaked skin. Babe hummed and huffed a laugh. He carded his fingers absently through Bill’s hair and let his quivering legs drift back down to the mattress.

“Alright,” he croaked, after a few long, lazy seconds, turning to nose at Bill’s temple. “I guess it was a pretty good line.”

Bill grinned and set his teeth against Babe’s jaw, muttering, “Worked on you, didn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Babe agreed. “It really did.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. That was a wild one. Arwen, I hope you enjoyed it~


End file.
